


Drabbles of Boromir

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Fellowship of the Ring, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boromir's hands.  In Moria.  And how they were used.  Movie-based.</p><p>Any advice would be most appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabbles of Boromir

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Triple Drabble – Permission**

I put my hand on his shoulder. Not to pull him away from the tomb. Not to bid him stand and prepare to fight. But to somehow say, ‘I know what you feel.’

Some wonder why warriors cry. I do not. I never question such a thing. Gimli’s tears do not surprise me. I have lived with tears my whole life.

So I comfort him in the way a man does, a fellow warrior. I know he understands, for he does not pull away. His shoulder loses some of its tension. It slumps. I have allowed him to grieve.

Sometimes, a warrior needs permission to grieve. Balin’s Tomb supercedes every need or want that came before this moment. It is terrible in its telling, haunting in its silent cry, wicked in its evil end. The horror of it is silence and dust and bones bereft of flesh.

Tears fall from my eyes. I did not even know this warrior. Gimli’s witness of grief is enough to give me permission to cry, to share in his grief. One warrior for another. It will not be the last time.

My esteem for Dwarves raised the moment Gandalf’s staff lit the halls of Dwarrodelf. Never had I seen such a city before.

It seems the essence of Middle-earth lies in its vastness. The men of Gondor crafted huge statues, the Argonath; towering cities, Minas Tirith, Minas Isil; and a great civilization.

So, too, I have now discovered, did the Dwarves. The size of it astounds. From such little creatures. The magnitude of it I find unsettling. Would Gondor be built if we had been such?

I will look differently upon my Dwarven friend. Gimli seems to recognize this as he stands, nods his head to me, and clutches his axe. We battle together.

 

**Tripple Drabble – Fey Were His Thoughts**

The stairs are broken. I look to my right and my left; there is no escape but forward. The chasm is deep. The Elf has no trouble; neither does the wizard. Yet, the little ones will never make it. It is too far.

I scoop them into my arms. I jump, while thoughts of Faramir chide me. ‘You never think. Just act. Someday you will kill yourself with your foolish bravery. It is not bravery to die. To leave Gondor bereft of her favorite son. To leave me…’ He never finished the sentence.

I, however, finish the jump. Aye, ‘twas difficult, perhaps foolhardy, but the Halflings would have no chance otherwise. I land in Legolas’ arms. His eyes shine with the fear of what I have done. I pat him on the back as I swallow my own heart, lodged in my throat.

How or why the Ringbearer is still on the wrong side, I do not know. I know only that he must be saved. Too late! The chasm widened by my jump! “No rope!” I hear Sam moan. I judge the distance. Aragorn, even alone, could not make such a jump; neither is there the possibility that he can toss Frodo that far.

So these hands have failed Gondor. The Ringbearer will carry the ring with him to the bottomless pit and Middle-earth will fall. Is that not what Gandalf said? And I have been the unwitting agent.

Another sundering crash; there is little left to the rock that holds the King of Gondor and the Hope of Middle-earth. Yet, has not Aragorn told me there is always hope! The rock sways. Surely, they will fall. Yet, the rock is falling towards us. I reach out my arms; these hands catch the little one and I am redeemed.

 

**Double drabble – Boromir’s Undoing**

Fathomless miles fall before my eyes. I see the wizard hanging on and I can do nothing; I am holding the little one. He strains and I find it incredible that he would almost pull me with him; such is his ardor to help Mithrandir. But it is folly. I cannot let him try. The bridge will collapse. So much of it is already gone. A lost cause, I know. Mithrandir struggles, stares as we freeze in horror, barks at us to run, and then, in a moment, a heartbeat, a breath – he is gone. He has let his hands free. He falls. He falls.

The Halfling screams pushing against my arms: arms that are there to save him, not hold him back, and I find I must pick him up and carry him away ere he too falls prey to those bottomless miles. I expect him to pummel me in his anger and grief. But he holds on tightly, little hands clasping the cloth as he continues to scream the name of his mentor.

A short while ago, I was grateful for these hands that helped release Gimli’s grief. Now they help to separate friends. Frodo must hate me.

 

**Drabble - Not Forsaken**

Tightly I hold onto Gimli. He struggles, tears at my arms, but I will not let him go. He bellows invectives at the Orc that chased us from his cousin’s burial ground, at the Balrog that tore Mithrandir from us, at the dreams that died in the space of a moment. I will not let him return to that dark pit, that cave that would claim us all if we let it.

The grief of these last hours’ envelopes him and he falls. He cannot fall far. I have him. Held tightly in my arms. I will not abandon him.


End file.
